Mouse
by Queen Shnoogleberry
Summary: Holmes was been left alone when Watson married, but he found a little friend inthe form of an extraordinary mouse. Corssover with 'The Great Mouse Detective' Warning: Fluff... pure fluff
1. Chapter 1

n neither Sherlock Holmes nor The Great Mouse Detective, there for I suck… nah… just kidding… there fore I write fanfics.

Summary: WARNING!!! PURE FLUFF!!! Watson's left, married and starting a practice and a family. A lonely Holmes finds a mouse and makes friends with him, names him Basil and even tells him about deduction. Basil, learns quickly becomes a detective himself. But how can he make Holmes realize that he understands him!?! Also, this fic may defy a few laws of nature, like, maybe mice wearing clothes? And they are about as intellectually complicated as humans, though we are too blind to see it… they have their own little society, a lot like ours, like in "The Great Mouse Detective"…

Holmes's POV

I sat alone by the fire in him home. Everything had changed so quickly. Watson had married that morning and was now on his honeymoon. He would be busy with starting a practice to support his wife and eventually a family. He will not have time anymore to drop everything and follow me to God only knows where. As I lit my pipe I thought about the possibilities of finding a new roommate. I decided against it, as no one could ever replace my Watson… no, no one could ever replace him. He was my best friend, and the thought of actually replacing him with a complete stranger was almost repulsive. The irony did hit me that he had been a stranger when I first met him, but I ignored it, preferring to savor my black mood, rather than listen to logic.

There was a small clatter coming from on the table. I looked over and saw a mouse helping himself the evening tea Mrs. Hudson had prepared for me. I frowned. The poor lady hated mice, as everyone respectable did. I picked up a tea cup and turned it over onto the creature. I am not a cruel man, and I really hate killing anything I don't have to. I don't mind killing humans so much, as the ones I do are criminals and have equal chance to kill me. They're not helpless animals merely looking for a home and something to eat.

While I pondered, I don't know how, but the little thing escaped. I looked over and smiled. He was still there; however, he was examining the room with his beady little eyes. They fell on me and seemed to smirk. I held out my hand and he did not run, but sniffed it and climbed onto my palm. I never did have a pet as a child, and never since, but I liked this lithe rodent, I was not stupid enough to expect him to want to be cage bound, so I decided to merely feed him and allow him to come and go as he pleased, so long as he did not show himself in any way to Mrs. Hudson. Yet, if he did, I decided that I would move him to the country and hope for the best for this little chap.

Over the next few days, my little mouse became bolder to the point that he would even sit by chair for a few minutes before darting along his way. I had decided to name him Basil, after my captain alter ego. It suited the little chap. I can't say exactly why, but it stuck in my head. I also learned that his favorite foods were scones and apples. These I made sure to always share with him, and each time I did, he would hang around and keep me from my usual loneliness. Eventually I took to building small mazes or puzzles and testing his problem solving abilities. He was very smart, my mouse, and each time he surpassed my expectations.

Despite my pleasure at my new friend, I now lived in constant fear of Mrs. Hudson getting a cat. Even Watson noticed my recent dislike for the animal, though, thankfully, he thought it was an allergy. This gave me an idea and one evening, just before supper, I came home pretending to sneeze every few seconds. Mrs. Hudson pounced like, I dare say, a cat. Before I could explain, she had a cup of herbal tea ready and some rocks warming in the fire for my bed. When I finally managed to tell her she seemed almost disappointed that she wouldn't get to take care of me. I sighed as I told her that I learned tonight that I was allergic to cats. She cooed and swore never to get one, much to my relief.

Basil's POV

I don't know how or why he took such a fancy to me, but I decided to do whatever I could for him after he tricked that poor old woman into keeping away cats. I never left his room when, during one case, he caught a chill and was stuck in bed for a whole day. I did what I could to make him laugh and in return, he began to talk to me. I knew he felt foolish, I knew he didn't think I could understand, but I can and I did that day. As he sniffled, he told me of his methods, he's a genius, and I guess I am too, because it all made sense. I have even been thinking about following him and becoming a detective for my fellow mice as well.

The first step for me was to go to my tailor and have him make me a smaller version of his trademark outfit. I must say, at the risk of sounding arrogant, that it looked very good on me. I officially opened for business a few days later, with an add in the newspaper and met some small success. Still, though I found the cases extremely stimulating, I found myself more and more away from my friend. Luckily, though, we both hit a lull around the same time. He sat me on is lap and played with my ears.

"My dear Basil, you don't seem to be around as much…" Well… at I was missed. "Have you found yourself a maiden to squire about the town?' I looked at him like he had suggested I was planning a trip to the moon. He laughed. Well maybe he was beginning to understand my moods. "Or perhaps I have put some notions in your head and you've decided to become a detective yourself?" There, now he had it. He chuckled as I sat up and looked at him. I truly believe he understood that time. I tried to show him he was right by climbing up the chest of his dressing gown and into the breast pocket. He had a key in there, a rather uncomfortable one too. I picked it up and threw it onto his lap. "Hey! Get out of there!" I pretended to be asleep, though, and he didn't bother me further.

It sees though, that I did fall asleep, because I woke, hours later, still in the pocket, but with him pacing around the room. I stretched and poked my head out. He paused to pat me on the head. "I imagine you're hungry, my little friend…" He placed me on the table by his plate. I noticed he had saved me a rather large portion of his scone. I tried to thank him by kissing his hand before eating. He chuckled and gave me a small push toward the food.

That night I could sense he was troubled. I stayed with him as he fell asleep, sitting on his pillow, a few inches away from his eyes. I knew he was grateful, and he was welcome, I'd do it again in a heart beat.

Holmes's POV

Now I sit here, writing in an old note book that I keep hidden in a place only my friend and I know exist.

My little friend is very good to me. He never complains about my habits, never tells me not to attempt certain composers and never is a nuisance. I try to keep from giving him any reason to avoid me. But I think it might be a good idea if I spent less time around him. Call me crazy, but I think he understands me. He always is near when I'm loneliest, and he seems to know when to keep away. I find it especially funny to think of the possibility that maybe he has started his own detective agency, for mice clients. His favorite spot, of late, is the breast pocket of my dressing gowns.

He has become rather bold, yet only around me. He still, though wisely, hides whenever Mrs. Hudson or anyone else is heard ascending the stairs. He seems frustrated with me. I wonder what I am doing to make him feel so. "What is it, my friend? How am I offending you?" He stirs and looks at me. I can almost feel him sigh. He wants to tell me something. Then it his me I can feel his moods, and somehow, and I pray it is not my imagination, but he seems to understand me and he seems as complex as a human. But that's impossible. Isn't it?

He looks up at me and any doubts I had vanish. Overwhelmed I rise, careful not to displace him, and pour myself a large glass of brandy. I look over at him and see in those small eyes, some glint of worry. I go to him and, not sure what to do settle for patting him, gently on the shoulder. He licks my hand, as if to tell me that he is still my pet. I pull him onto my lap and stroke his velvety head. "If only I could understand you." I murmur.

Basil's POV

He finally realizes. He's a smart one. I'm lucky to have met him. I love to be the one he murmurs to when stuck on a case. He finally realizes that I can relate to him in so many ways. I think he's noticed that I occasionally borrow his possessions for my own work. He has yet to complain, as I have yet to damage anything. But I think I hit a bit of a limit when I borrowed a dog he was keeping. The dog was very well behaved and returned home with me without the slightest problem, so he has not forbidden me the use of Toby. For that I am most grateful. The dog has become a valuable companion for me, and when not at my human's house, I go to his home for his help.

We have always kept our friendship a secret, though we came close to discovery one afternoon, when, Dr. Watson, my human's dear friend came to visit. We were both asleep together in his favorite chair when the doctor entered. Luckily a gust of wind from the open window caught the door and slammed it against the wall. I scrambled into his nearest pocket and found myself in rather uncomfortable quarters with a loaded revolver.

My human rose and I was jostled so the barrel was resting against my chest. I squeaked. My human jumped, for never had I uttered such a noise before. His companion must have also, as he explained, "Just a floor board… I'll have to see to it. I detest that noise." He then reached, coolly, into his pocket and blessedly withdrew the revolver. From the noise, I'd say he placed it on the table.

When his hand was free, he placed it in his pocket and gave me a reassuring pat. I pushed against his hand to show my gratitude.

"Well it seems I win." I heard from outside my pocket.

"Oh? Win what?"

"The right to examine you. Don't you remember? Last time you came to visit me I tried to, but you refused. I then told you I would show up one day and examine you whether or not you liked it? You told me you'd deduce when and make sure to be away. I said if you didn't I'd win the right to examine you."

"Damn…" I pushed against his hand and tried to keep my laughter from being picked up by his fingers. I didn't succeed, because he pushed me over and withdrew his hand. That made me laugh all the harder, almost squeaking.

Holmes's POV

My little mouse must be taking on my sense of humor. I have reason to believe that I am creating a monster here. Still, he provides endless entertainment and companionship. My only regret is that I can't be with him right now, talking to him and watching as he shows me he's listening. I have begun to rely on the soft texture of his ears to take the place of cocaine in my spare time. The case I am on is taking all of my energy. I find myself hoping that he has enough food without my sharing my meals with him. Then I scold myself for my silliness, of course he does. He's smart and Mrs. Hudson isn't always looking. He's far from stupid enough to be caught.

Watson's commented that I seem to be taking his absence better than I let on that I would before he was wed. If he only knew… if I tried to tell him… I have little doubt I'd be sent off to Bedlam, with no ceremony, just urgency. This makes me chuckle and I cover it with a cough. He would probably dismiss it at first as a joke, but if I insisted, he would send me off and spend the rest of his life wondering just what went wrong in my head.

We pull up in front of 221 B Baker Street. My heart stops when I see the exterminator parked in front of my home.

"Holmes? What the devil is it?"

I don't know how I managed my lie, but I did. "They use cats… I hate cats…"

"Ah, yes, your allergies… well if they are the cat using exterminators, then keep a handkerchief to your nose and mouth, until you're in your room. I don't think Mrs. Hudson would let them in there…"

I burst in and demanded to know why I had not been notified about calling in exterminators.

"I didn't!" She protested. "It's the neighbor's that are! And don't worry; I won't ever call one that uses cats, poison only. Mice are a hazard, though. I have scheduled for them to come tomorrow."

I nearly fainted with relief. "Alright. My apologies… thank you."

"Will you be wanting tea, then?"

"Yes… yes I will…" I climbed the stairs in a daze. I had to find my pet and keep him safe until they left.

My sitting room was deserted. "Basil?" I called. "Basil?" He climbed the empty fire place to get my attention. "Mrs. Hudson's called the exterminators. Don't worry, no cats, just poison. But you need to understand that you can not eat anything I don't personally give you." I prayed that I was not crazy in thinking that he understood me. My prayers were answered when he nodded. "I'm also going to take you with me when I leave tomorrow and until they leave, alright?" Again a nod. I stroked that velvety head with my right index finger. He climbed up my arm and perched on my shoulder. "You should warn your friends…" He scurried down my arm and disappeared for a few hours. When he returned, he looked tired. I offered him some cream and a piece of my scone from my tea earlier.

I slept on my back that night, with my little friend on my chest. I fell asleep talking to him and awoke in the same position, with him once again ready to listen to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Basil's POV

He's very kind to me, and takes care to protect me, my human does. I just wish there was a way I could repay him.

The day dawns and he must leave. I climb into his overcoat pocket as he requested last night. He smiles at me sticking my nose out into the air. "We're going very far away today, my friend. You may or may not be familiar with this method of transportation, but I beg you not to be afraid. I'll take care of you."

"I know…" I tried to tell him. How could I not trust him?

We boarded a cab. Never had I been on the inside, but jumped on the back. Little does my human know that I knew every street as well, if not better than he does. He keeps his hand not far from me, trying, I suppose, to provide comfort. I poke my nose out to sniff the air and look around. Even if I had not heard him give the directions, I'd know we were headed to Charring Cross Station. Does this mean we're going to be taking a train? That was one experience I could not yet claim. I found the idea rather exciting.

We boarded our train and as soon as we were in a compartment all to ourselves, he pulled me out. "Look around, my friend, I don't suppose this is a common experience for you?"

Ha! A smart one. The tracks are wider than I am, I'd have to be stupid to play around one of these things. I hear a shrill whistle. My ears are more sensitive than his, and I still feel him cringe. He claps a hand over my head to try to muffle the noise. It helps, but my head still rings. I feel the lurch as we begin to move, nearly well enough to fall off, but he catches me. Angry, I stalk back to his pocket, but he holds on to me.

"Don't worry, the worst is over, just a smooth ride now."

Well, it did get better, until we neared stops, but then he was prepared, and held me while covering my ears. So very thoughtful… I give him a small kiss after each stop, just to let him know how muck it helps.

We sit there all day. At one point some old ladies share our compartment and I was forced to hide. At another point, he scooped me up and left the train to buy some French pastry. This he gave me a large portion of, for which I was grateful.

Holmes's POV

I de-board my train with my little mouse safe in my pocket. I fear this whole experience has frightened him, or, at the very least, fatigued him. I, myself, look forward to reaching my client's house, where both a bed and dinner have been promised. Ah, yes, he is asleep in my pocket. I hope this journey has not been too stressful for him.

I arrive at the house in a carriage sent by my client, a very wealthy lady. As soon as I arrive, I let my friend out of my pocket and tell him to stay put as I dress for dinner.

He obeys, and I can almost see him chuckle as I try to straighten my cravat. Dr. Watson has before mentioned my prim way of dressing, but I am afraid that I am utterly hopeless at cravats. While fighting with that blasted piece of silk, my pin falls under my bed. Cursing I lower myself to retrieve it, when my dear Basil scurries under and pulls it out. I try to thank him, but he is under the bed again in a flash. This time, he pulls out a curious weapon. It is almost like a sewing needle in shape, but as long as my hand, from wrist to tip of middle finger. I gaze at in shock, because it is not only blood stained, but it is in the wrong room. The discovery completely changes all my preexisting theories.

I gaze, dumbfounded at my friend, who has just saved me a world of trouble and possible kept an innocent man from the gallows. He smiles at me and rests his paw against my knee. I scoop him up in my hand and place him on the bed.

"My thanks to you, my friend… but I don't know just what to do with you." I tell him. "I'm afraid to leave you here all alone, and yet, I'm afraid to take you to dinner. It's your choice. I could leave you hidden in a drawer, but this old lady has a cat, and I'm afraid of it sniffing you out." My friend ponders for a small time, and then climbs into the pocket of my dinner jacket. "Well be careful, then." I murmur.

Basil's POV

I try to keep as quiet as possible, even going as far as to take care not to breath to heavily. My friend is very attentive, sneaking me bread whenever he can and even going as far as taking me out of his pocket while we eat so I do not suffocate.

That old lady he mentioned seems to want to talk about everything but the case. It is possible that she's just foolish, yet, I'm sure there's another reason. My theory is proved, when my friend asks a direct question and she dodges it. But why? She hired him, why would she not wish to aid her own investigation? She doesn't sound guilty, and yet, she hides something? I try to ponder the question, when I catch a hint. There's a loud thud from directly upstairs. The lady calls a maid and tells her that her cat has escaped and knocked something over, and to lock it up again.

Perhaps my human friend is not as sensitive to sound as I am, but I knew that the thud was caused by something too large for a mere cat to knock over. There was also the faint sound of a voice, laughing nervously under its breath. I know my companion didn't hear, as he was not subject to those twinges we was when he heard something odd…

Deciding to investigate, I climb off his lap. He tries to hold onto me, but I worm out of his hand and, using the shadows and every other cover available, climb the stairs. At the top, I slip in the door as the maid opens it. What I see was expected, yet horrifying. There's a man there, lying on the floor, holding his throat, which is bleeding profusely. The maid screams. I look down the hallway and see, in the darkness, a man dashing down the corridor.

I follow him, and even make fair ground, when he starts to climb up the stairs to the tower of the old building. Without a though, I follow him. He slams the door to the top room. I inspect it and note that it is too low for me to pass under, and blocked in every other way.

I give up and go down the stairs to watch the rest of the investigation. My Sherlock is bending over the corpse with his glass. He sends the maid for the police and tells everyone else to leave. They go and he continues to examine the crime scene. After the door closes, I go over to him and pull his sleeve. He looks over at me and pats my head.

"What did you see, my friend?"

Holmes's POV

I gaze at my friend, knowing that he holds some secret, but is unable to tell me. It's far more maddening that any other situation I've ever bee in. He pulls my sleeve again and runs off down the hallway. I follow him at an all out run. He leads me to the tower of the house and begins to climb the stairs. I scoop him up and take them two at a time. When we reach the top he points to the door. I knock and hear only laughter. Insane laughter.

I gaze into my friend's eyes and know that I have my killer.

The man was proven insane and sent to a first rate institution where he was visited every week by his wife, my former employer. There has been some progress, as he frequently recognizes those around him.

Basil's POV

My dear friend was so grateful to me for helping him with the case that he spent the next day caring me around the countryside in his pocket. It was absolutely beautiful. Having been born and raised in the city, I found it a wonderful change. The flowers were far sweeter than those crammed into the city's flower boxes.

At one point, he sat down under a tree and gave me the opportunity to explore. He told me to be back in an hour, as we had to catch our train. I spent the time picking up various curiosities and placing them in what had become my pocket. I picked enough flowers and leaves to make the journey softer.

He must have fallen asleep, and not realized what I was doing, as he saw me run to his pocket and must have thought I was inside, when all I was doing was placing another bunch of flowers inside.

Holmes's POV

I saw my mouse approach my pocket and realized that I had fallen asleep. I checked my watch and saw to my dismay that we were five minutes late. I snatched up my coat and felt a lump in my pocket. Mistaking it for my friend, I dashed off to make the train.

It was not until I was half way home that I stuck my hand in my pocket, as I thought my friend was sleeping. To my horror, he was not there! My first instinct was panic, but I composed myself and decided that he must be in the compartment somewhere. I searched every inch of that place before my train reached the next station. I was sickened with fear when I confirmed that my friend was not there. At the next station, I disembarked, with only my carpet bag and bought a ticket to the town of my former employer. Once at the town, I immediately headed to the area where I had last seen him. Under the tree.

While walking there, terrible thoughts plagued me. Hawks, farm cats, owls, and every other possible predator.

I searched the entire area with no success. I waited there for hours, but nothing. There was only two footprints by where I had lay my coat. Useless. I placed my head in my hands and fought a growing desire to weep like a schoolgirl. Watson may be married, but he was happy and I could see him whenever I wished. My mouse was lost in a completely strange area with predators at every turn. I could only imagine what horrors he must be facing, that is, if he was still alive…


	3. Chapter 3

Basil's POV

I'll admit I was terrified. Anyone I my position would be. I scurried after him until I lost him. I sat down at that point and thought about my options. I could go back to where he had left me, wait and hope he finds me before anything else does, or I could attempt to follow him and take the train to London by my self.

I decided that the only solution was to try making my way back to London. I began walking back to the station. Along the way I estimated it would be about two miles. It was five. I was exhausted and weak by the time I made it to the station, indeed, it took a week. I managed to scavenge for food along the way, but it was not enough. I gazed around the station there were no trains there… I tried to figure out when a train would arrive, but had no clues. I waited for about twenty minutes before a train appeared in the distance. To my joy, it was facing in the direction of my sweet, sweet London!

Holmes's POV

I sat on my chair before the fire. My mouse had gone missing five days ago. I gazed miserably into the fire. I was lonelier than ever, even the point after my Watson left me. I had little doubt that he was by now dead. There was just no way that a city mouse could survive in a place full of animals.

I heard a knock at the front door followed by my dear friend's tones of greeting Mrs. Hudson. I sighed; I wasn't feeling up to visitors yet, even my dear friend. He climbs the stairs. He enters without even knocking; after all, I told him he would always be welcome here.

"Holmes! Mrs. Hudson asked me here. What's gotten into you? She says you mope around and not in your usual black mood style, but like you did after I left, only worse… tell me… what is it?" He sat down in his old chair and looked at me. I sighed and told him I was just upset over a failed case. He seemed to believe me and for the rest of the evening we conversed about various subjects. My grief even began to ease with the aid of good company and good brandy.

When I went to bed than night, I felt like I may actually be able to sleep.

Basil's POV

I climbed on the train long before it began to move. To my relief there was a lot of space to hide. The train made several stops before I heard the cry of "Charring Cross!" Ah, music to my ears.

Shortly after exiting the station, I found the cab stand. To my pleasure, I heard two gentlemen call out the name of a street near my home. A lifetime in London had taught me how to jump aboard a cab at the last second to avoid discovery. Rain started to fall while we drove a cold morning rain. It didn't concern me, as I was headed home. Home to my friend, who must miss me terribly. I did not blame him, for I had been late and it was just a mistake. Besides I was alright. I thought a bit and realized that I had been gone for nearly a week! My friend must think me dead!

Holmes's POV

I awoke refreshed the next day. I still missed my friend, terribly, but I could deal with life now. Watson had spent the night and breakfasted with me before going about his rounds.

After he left, I gazed out the window. A cab rattled past and some elderly ladies strolled past discussing something that must have been a big issue with them. The street was coming to life, and yet, I still grieved. Deciding to do something to take my mind off it, I began to organize my papers. I found my friend's handkerchief. It had been mine, but he had loved to sleep on it so much that I just surrendered it to him. A small price to give for all he gave me. I smiled and placed it on the mantle piece. Sighing I went back to my work.

Basil's POV

As I walked back to my home, I found even what had been repulsive about the city to me before had now become almost pleasant. I had read Dr. Watson's stories about my friend a short while ago, and I now felt that I understood what he meant in the beginning of 'A Study In Scarlet', when he talked about coming back to London. Despite the fact that it was several blocks to my home, and a cab could have gotten me there faster, I chose to walk and gaze at my city. Nothing had changed, and there was no reason why it should, having only been gone a short while. But to me it felt like a hundred years or more…

I arrived home towards evening. The gas was lit and I could see my friend in the window, playing his violin. I even heard the melody. Melancholy. I knew he missed me, so I hurried to the sitting room.

He stood there, in a haze of smoke, playing. He reached the peak as I entered.

Finally, I was home.

Holmes's POV

I had been playing my violin to consol myself. As night set in again, I began to feel alone once more. I played a melancholy song of my own composition. Composed, even, for this exact occasion. As I bent down to place my violin on the table, and rest my throbbing wrists, I felt a small tug at my pant leg. I gazed down, thinking I was caught on a chair leg.

To my astonishment and absolute delight, my friend sat to the side of my foot! He smirked up at me as if to say, "I made it out of the country, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

With a cry of joy, that I fear must have woke poor Mrs. Hudson, I picked him up and held him near my heart. He scurried up my shoulder and licked my face. I came close to crying into that soft fur, but stopped myself when I realized that he must be starving. I placed him on the table and offered him the entire scone from my tea earlier. He ate at a furious pace, having not eaten something very filling in many days, I imagine. I watched him and fiddled with his tail. He didn't seem to mind, I was just glad to have him back.

When he ate his fill, I picked him up and headed to my bedroom. I grabbed his handkerchief on the way. I placed it on the side of my pillow. "Sleep here tonight, my friend, and tomorrow tell me of your adventure." I said as I got ready for bed.

Basil's POV

He set me down gently. I managed a single yawn before I was in a deep sleep that lasted until the middle of the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

Holmes's POV

My dear little friend and I had spent the past few weeks mostly apart. I expect he had some pressing engagements. As for myself, I had several pressing cases, none of any of real interest, but all important to the safety of my country.

I had one night to myself. I was planning how to approach Charles Augustus Milverton. I had just sat back and lit my pipe when I heard a small clatter behind me. I looked and saw my little friend laying limp on the carpet. I dropped my pipe and ran over to him. Fortunately, I had dropped it onto the tile fire grate, so the whole house didn't burn to the ground.

As I approached him, it was apparent that he was still alive, but unconscious. I picked him up in my hands. He shivered. I took him over the fireside and lay him on the bear skin rug. He woke up slowly and it took several hours before he was his old self again. When he was well enough to eat something, I offered him an entire scone.

Basil's POV

My friend… how can I ever thank him? All I remember was passing out on his carpet. I know he spent hours nursing me back to health. I had been working on a case involving a missing emerald ring and an infamous fruit smuggler's warehouse. I was careless and got stuck in a storm. Rain soaked me to the bone before I knew what was happening, and to make matters worse, I slipped and fell into the gutter. I was nearly swept into the sewer, but was saved by those bars they put around the drains. There I clung, for over an hour in the pouring rain, trying to slip, as it would have meant certain death.

After what seemed like an eternity, A large stick was swept over the drain. I used this to climb over the water. By then the rain had died down, but there was still plenty of water running in the gutters to sweep one away.

By some blessed luck, the fall had swept me half a mile closer to home. Not only was my trip shorter, but the drain where I nearly met my maker was right beside a cab stand. It was there that I found a cab that was about to leave on a rout that would pass Baker Street.

Holmes's POV

My little friend wakens. I look at him. He is still covered in grime from whatever it was that happened to him last night. I has simply placed him on an old handkerchief last night, but in the light of the morning, I saw that he would need a bath. I poured some water into the bowl on my dressing table. Then I picked him up and placed him beside it.

He scrubbed himself clean while I dressed and looked like a whole other creature when he was done. The water, however, was murky as a mud puddle. I smiled and ruffled his wet fur. "That feels better, huh?" He smiled at me. I knew he agreed whole heartedly.

Basil's POV

I almost fell asleep riding on the back of the cab. But I forced myself to stay awake, knowing that to do so would mean to miss my stop and end up, heaven knows where. And Right then all I needed was a fire, some food and sleep.

I tried to jump off as the cab passed my home, but I tripped and fell head over heels onto the hard cobble stones. A small noise escaped me. It was a cross between a whimper and a squeak. I ached and now I was numb in several limbs. How I made it up to my friend's room will forever remain a mystery, but I did, despite the fact that I was sorely temped to just collapse in the street. I forced myself to rise and face the challenge before me.

After that, I simply remember waking the next morning, sore and with a nasty cold, in perfect health. He offered me a bath, and I was more than happy top accept, as I was as grimy as I could possibly be. Afterwards, I felt like my old self again.

Holmes's POV

After seeing that my friend was fine, I turned my thoughts back to my Charles Augustus Milverton problem. I had decided my only hope was to burgle his place, when Watson showed up, half an hour before Charles was scheduled to arrive.

I had my little friend on my lap when Watson was shown in. There was no time to hide him, so I simply kept him there, stroking his ears as Watson hung up his coat and Mrs. Hudson went to the kitchen to prepare tea.

Basil's POV

There was a new voice. One I had heard before, but never had I been close enough to hear the words, of see the owner. But the owner of the voice seemed to be on excellent terms with my friend, as they greeted each other warmly. I heard my name mentioned and was scooped up and put on the table.

I could hear the disgust in the other's voice. Indignant, I scurried down onto my friend's lap then down onto the floor. I left the room without turning back.

I was not angry at my friend, but the owner of the other voice, some blond man with a really stupid mustache. Who did he think he was anyways, going on about how mice spread diseases, a doctor?

Holmes's POV

'Well, that went well,' I thought, 'not!'

Watson was taken aback by the fact that I had kept a mouse as a pet. He lectured me about them carrying diseases and the like. After a while he calmed down and thought he tried to hide it, I could tell he simply thought this to be another of my jokes. Well he was wrong. But I knew that few others would accept my pet. I'd have to be more careful to hide him and keep him away when clients call.

Basil's POV

I watched the whole scene with Mr. Milverton through my hole. After he left, I watched as my friend and that other man with him, who was indeed a doctor, prepared to burgle his house. I decided to come along too, as I felt I could be of help somehow. I snuggled into my friend's pocket. I felt him stiffen as I settled. Then he patted me, gently, through the fabric.

After he double checked that he had everything, we were off…


	5. Chapter 5

Holmes's POV

I felt my friend climb into my coat pocket. With him safe with me, and Watson at my side, I felt that there was nothing that could go wrong that evening.

The details of the evening, as I remember, were rather embellished by Watson, but, I have to admit, did make a great story… however, the credit for our escape from Milverton and the success of the whole operation belongs to my friend.

As I remember, I knelt before the safe, feeling excited at the challenge before me. In my haste to open it and my lust for the puzzle it presented, I lost myself. Watson, too, became a casualty of the moment.

Basil's POV

I noticed my friend's attention was fixed on the safe, rather than on not getting caught. Perhaps he was completely absorbed, or I have better hearing, but I heard the footsteps down the hall. I had no other option. He had to be warned immediately, so I bit him. I bit him lightly on the hand, which caused him to jump.

He paused, and, hearing the steps too, signaled to his friend to hide.

We hid just a few seconds before he came into the room. I felt disgust at the mere sight of him. Here he sat, comfortable and well, nay, over fed, while several people in London, including a very sweet lady, lay awake in their beds thinking over and over again their anxious thoughts. They could not pay and soon their lives would be ruined. I felt then that I would have liked to see his ruined.

I watched, with only mild horror, with my companions as the lady shot him to oblivion.

Holmes's POV

I remember, as we were running toward the garden wall of Milverton's house, checking that my little friend was safely in my pocket. I scaled the wall and, after seeing Watson safely on the other side, checked again before I ran away from the house.

When we were home, I ordered tea for us and fed my little friend a great deal of my scone.

Basil's POV

I remember that it seemed an eternity before the good doctor left us. It must not be assumed that I have any grudge with him, but I was tired and wanted to go to sleep. During that long tea, a detective from Scotland Yard came into the sitting room and asked for help finding the murderer of Milverton. I could feel my friend trying not to laugh as he refused to aid the poor man on grounds that he thought the killer did society a service.

Finally, after the detective left, did the good doctor retire to his old room for the night and my friend to his. He spoke to me as he readied himself for bed.

Holmes's POV

"My dear friend, forgive me for stuffing you in my pocket for so long. And allow me to give you my most sincere thanks for helping me tonight. I owe you the success of the entire operation." I looked over to him and smiled.

He was standing on top of my pillow as if to say, 'it's been a long night, can we just get to bed now?'

"Alright," I said, "I'm coming…" I slipped my nightshirt over my head and climbed under the covers. Reaching up, I turned off the gas lamp and was almost asleep instantly.

Basil's POV

It took me only a few minutes to fall asleep that night. My friend went before me, but I stayed up for a few minutes thinking. Had I saved him? Could he have gotten out without me? All sorts of questions filed in and out of my mind before I decided that what happened was the past and there was no way to alter it, whether for the better or worse.

At long last, I fell asleep.


End file.
